waiter named Marco. Tell him the man who saw him just now at Mr. Nottidge's house wants to see him immediately. Bring him back here. When you get here stay with him outside, strolling in front until I come out with a man and woman who've come to see me. Tell him to take a good, close look at the woman, but don't attract her attention. Understand?"
The other man understood and hurried off, and Wedgwood returned to his callers and closed the door on them and himself.
"Now, Mr. Patello?" he said quietly. "What brings you and your wife here?"
Mr. Patello, who it was easy to see was a mere cypher in the presence of his better-half, looked helplessly in her direction. But Mrs. Patello was only too ready to act as spokesman.
"Well, you see, Mr. Wedgwood," she began in a soft, silky voice that seemed strangely in contrast with her vinegary appearance. "My husband came to see me early this morning in consequence of your calling on him last night, when, of course, I was not at home. For the last few days I've been nursing a sick friend of mine—Mrs. Parkinson, of Mavisdale Avenue, Clapham Common—which is why you didn't find me at Tooting. Now, Mr. Patello was so much upset by what you told him last night that he came to me and told me all about your
